“I was grinning because, whatever you may contrive to do to me, it struck me as being rather funny that one man in a place like this should manage to scare so many.”

Crow's hand gripped the handle of his revolver.

“That will do,” said Westerham, growing suddenly serious, for he realised that while the men were posted at either end of the canal-path there was just a chance that Crow might risk the noise of firearms.

“Now, Mr. Crow,” Westerham continued, “I have allowed you to say a good deal and insult me very considerably. As a matter of fact, I do not happen to be an American—not that that makes very much difference. Who I am and where I come from is no concern of yours. And I don't propose to tell you.

“I propose to tell you something else, though, and I regret to say that it is a tale of breach of faith—of a breach of faith committed by a member of what you are pleased to call ‘the club.’”

The men looked at each other.

“The name of the offending member,” said Westerham, slowly and deliberately, “is Melun.”

At the mention of this name most of the men broke out into volleys of cursing; but Westerham held up his hand for silence.

“I entered into a certain agreement with Melun on certain terms,” he said.[Pg 133] “Is it news to you that the price I offered for his services and for the services of yourselves was a hundred thousand pounds?”

[Pg 133]

“Good Heavens!” Crow exclaimed, and then sat muttering to himself.

The rest of the men were too astonished to speak.

“You are a liar!” shouted Crow.

“Pardon me,” said Westerham, “I am no liar, as I am quite prepared to prove to you. Now I have every intention, provided that Melun holds good to his promise, of handing him over that sum. I simply tell you this in order that you may see to it that you get your proper shares.”

“You liar!” exclaimed Crow again.

“Pardon me,” said Westerham, “but you really are mistaken.”

He put his hand into his breast and pulled out a pocket-book.

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